


Withering

by cadkitten



Series: Withering [1]
Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-01
Updated: 2009-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyo's been married and kept it a secret all these years. Finally, he's melting away into pain, his marriage ending and he turns to the only person he thinks might understand... Die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Withering

**Author's Note:**

> Beta Readers: elyachan  
> Song[s]: "Beautiful" by Eminem

12:47 am. There's a knock on my door. My eyes flick up toward the clock and then toward the door, away from the book I had been reading. Odd... it's so late. I can't even guess who it could possibly be. But then, if they're here this late at night, then they probably know me.

I slip my bookmark between the worn pages of the novel and stand up, unceremoniously dumping the book on the black coffee table, then head for the entryway. I pause, stretching and yawning, my back popping in three places, causing a soft sigh to leave my lips. Pressing my left hand against the door, I look out the peephole.

The sight that greets me isn't at all what I had expected. Kyo's standing there, head bowed and a bag slung over his shoulder, a case of beer in the other hand. It's so obvious it's him, even through the distorted image of the lens. His small yet muscular frame radiates something so incredibly _Kyo_ that he couldn't blend into a crowd, even if he wanted to.

My fingers curl around the knob, twisting it as I flick the deadbolt open with my other hand. Stepping back slightly, I pull the door open, my eyes full of curiosity as he just stands there. It takes a minute before he looks up and tries to offer me a slight smile. It's false... so very achingly fake. "Come in."

He gives me the slightest of nods, making his way around me and handing me the case of beer. His bag, jacket and shoes get left in the entryway before he makes a beeline for the living room.

Perplexed, I shut the door and then follow him, setting the case of beer on the table, opening it and popping the tops off two bottles, handing one to him and sitting back on the couch with my own.

He sits, small body hunched over, his forearms braced on his knees, legs spread wide while he stares at the floor. Concern filters across my features as I sip at the beer. The only times he's ever turned to alcohol, it's been pretty bad things, especially with how violently he usually reacts to the substance.

I just watch him for the longest time. I'm unsure what to do, what to ask and what not to. With him, it's always a flip of a coin as to if I should or shouldn't. By the time I reach for the second beer, I've found the nerve I needed to make that plunge. "What's up?" My voice is quiet, toned just right to tell him I'm not blind and just what the question means.

He's silent, head bowed and his body unmoving for long enough I almost think he's not going to answer me. Just as I give up and start to reach for the remote to the television, he speaks up. His voice is so quiet, so painfully broken that my breath catches and clenches in my chest. "She's leaving me."

With anyone else, that would have made total sense. A breakup of some kind, a girl friend leaving, someone beloved walking off without a single backward glance. But in the case of Kyo, it's harder than that. My mind has to struggle to wrap around the three words and ascertain their meaning. He never talks about his life outside the band, not a single solitary thing. We don't know where he lives, what he does for fun... nothing. Hell, we've all known him for over a decade and we don't have a clue as to what the 'real' Kyo is like.

He's always pushed everyone away, kept a gap between work and the rest of his life. In a way, it's been the most painful part of being in Dir en grey for me. I struggle, no matter the situation, to make everyone happy with me, to have everyone like me. But he's always been the one that I couldn't get as close to as I wanted.

My fingers slide over the cool glass of the beer bottle, my eyes still studying his profile. Finally, I take a stab at it. "Girlfriend?"

A quiet sound comes from him, something between a laugh and a sob. "Wife."

That single word, delivered in such a manner, is like a slap to my face. I never knew, never even suspected... all this time. All this time I spent trying to figure him out enough to get closer... and it was all completely useless. A long time ago me and the others took a bet as to if Kyo was straight or gay. When we never saw him display any interest in anyone at all, we figured he was stuck so far in the closet that it wasn't even funny. Wrong... we were so very wrong.

I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, the one that is the remnants of any hope I ever had, trying to push it all away. Taking another swig of beer, just to gain some time, I turn it all over in my mind. What's right to ask? What isn't? I want to know it all, but I probably have no right to dig in something that's now going to be over. My tongue slips out to wet my lips and a small sigh crosses over my tongue, almost tickling as it passes. "Why?" It's all I can come up with. Why is she leaving him?

His head turns and his eyes meet mine. There's so much pain in the depths that I can't even grasp onto it all at once. A fine sheen of tears glasses those beautiful brown eyes and I instantly understand that this isn't just some small thing to him. This isn't a joke and it's breaking him from the inside out. One solid fact has always remained true with him... Kyo doesn't cry.

My reaction is instant, not thought out at all. It doesn't matter, thinking won't get me anywhere with all of this. He's here, in my living room, for a reason. He came knowing how I would react, knowing what I would do and who I will be for him... who I have always been for him. I slip my bottle onto the table and slide closer to him, putting my arms around him and tugging him to me. One arm goes around his waist, my hand sliding to press against the small of his back. The other slides into his bleached blonde hair, gently fingering the strands while I let him bury his face against my t-shirt, the warmth of his tears soaking into the fabric.

It's almost as if time stops moving around us and we're in our own world. Only the soft red glow of the numbers on the clock tells me otherwise. It takes him a while before he manages to get his own beer settled onto the table and curls his arms around my waist. He's holding on tight, leaving me almost breathless. He's hurting so badly and it rolls off of him in waves, choking the atmosphere around us.

When his words come, I don't expect them. They're cracked, broken, just like he is. "She said she couldn't stand who I am anymore. The touring, the way I do things to myself on stage... how all I ever talk about is you guys." He's talking to me like he's not really there, as if he opened his mouth and everything started pouring out without his permission. All the same, I listen so carefully, filing it all away into my mind.

"We kept fighting... always just words, but words hurt too... she says they especially hurt when I say them. That my words are like knives." His fingertips dig into my sides for a single moment before he relaxes again and continues. "Stupid shit. Trash day, why she spent so much on a cat that seems to hate me, where I put the groceries at because it obviously wasn't where she wanted them." He pauses to rub his cheek on my shoulder, then goes on. "It started like that... but it kept growing. When I came back from tours, she'd accuse me of sleeping around, tell me I smelled like another woman or like one of you guys. She never even met you all... she couldn't have proof of that. But she assumed... told me she _knew_."

My brow furrows in confusion. To me, it sounds like she's been grasping at straws, trying to find something, anything, to use as an excuse. I don't say it... not yet. He's far from finished, his voice still mumbling against the cotton of my shirt, breath whispering across my neck with every single word. Any other situation... any other time....

"I don't understand, Die. I never did anything wrong. Even when she said she didn't want me sexually, I stayed with her. I told her it was okay, that I understood. I gave her the independence that she wanted... gave her everything." His voice cracks and I can feel him shift around uncomfortably in my arms. I just move the hand on his lower back to start rubbing at it. "She didn't want to be seen with me... told me it would be too hard on her if anyone knew. Her family knows... my parents know... but I couldn't even tell you guys. She was terrified... afraid of the only other people in my life that matter to me."

My heart skips a beat when he slams one hand angrily into the back of the overstuffed couch cushion. But I know he wouldn't hurt me. There's no fear in me from it, just an amazement that he's so angry it's actually overflowing for once. My hand in his hair moves, skimming down his arm to his wrist, pulling his hand up to my lips and pressing a small kiss there before holding it. "You gave up everything so she could have what she wanted... what she was using you for. If you ask me, she didn't want to be known so that she could keep you in her clutches, keep anyone from shining a light on how she was treating you."

It surprises me that he doesn't get mad with me, instead he actually lifts his head up to study me while I talk to him. There's no anger in those eyes, just a need to know... a need to see from the outside. "You think... really?"

I nod just a tiny bit, squeezing his hand a little. "No matter what you did, she wanted more. More than makes any rational sense. God knows you never slept around. You've even gone so far as to cage yourself up in the bus all the time instead of going out with us like you used to." I pause, unsure I should say what I feel, but knowing I need to. There's a certain pain in my own voice when I speak again. "I thought... thought I did something wrong... said something I shouldn't have or something." I shake my head and look ashamed, my hand lifting up to ghost over his cheek for a moment before I realize what I'm doing and drop it into my lap, hoping he'll let it slide.

"It wasn't you... never you." He tugs his hand from my own with a soft sigh, fidgeting with his fingers in his own lap. "She sucked everything out of me. And that's why I don't understand how I'm reacting to this. She handed me the divorce papers last week and I just turned them in today. I should be happy... but I'm not." He looks up at me, his eyes full of confusion. "It hurts...."

"Because you loved her." It's a statement, not a question. It wouldn't hurt him at all if he hadn't' cared. He'd walk away a free man, pleased he could do what he wanted rather than upset that it's all crumbling down around him.

"I didn't think I did anymore." The words are so very quiet, tinged with something I can only identify as guilt.

"Your heart says otherwise if you hurt." Words from the wise. Just like my own heart hurt when I resigned myself to not even having the one I loved as a close friend any longer. I should be mad, angry as all hell at this stupid bitch for taking him and hoarding him so much to herself that he couldn't even be my friend anymore. And yet... I'm not mad. I can't be.

It's silent again, falling around us heavily and weighing us down in so many ways. He goes after another beer and I finish my second one, standing to go put the empty bottles in the glass bin. I bring him a glass of water back, hoping it will keep the inevitable from happening in the morning.

He gives me the most grateful smile and sips at it, turning the glass in his hands, over and over. "Die?"

"Yeah?" My eyes dart up to him again, the third beer in my hands already, lid lying on the black top of my table.

"I know it's a lot to ask of you... but I can I stay here for a while? I... she..." he sighs, "the apartment's hers. I took my stuff today to a storage place, but I have nowhere to go except a hotel... and I'm just not so sure I should be alone right now." Now his eyes are only on his glass, staring at it like it holds all the answers in the world.

"You're always welcome here... always."

When his eyes meet mine again, there's something different there, something that tells me just how much I mean to him and just how much my response means. I give him the softest of smiles and then push myself up, heading for the back to get out some stuff for him to use for tonight. Tomorrow... tomorrow we'll work on the rest of it.

One thing is for certain: I have my friend back. And nothing in the world can replace that.

**The End**  



End file.
